


unbroken paths

by radovanryn



Series: celestine & hyacinth [3]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Gardens & Gardening, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mysticism, Paganism, Prophetic Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radovanryn/pseuds/radovanryn
Summary: They say, “time heals all wounds.” But Isa is a Seer, and he knows that time is running out. How far would you go—and what would you sacrifice—in order to save the one you love? [Post KH3 LeaIsa + Sea Salt family, sequel to “Healing Light”]
Relationships: Isa/Lea (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: celestine & hyacinth [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806781
Comments: 20
Kudos: 30





	1. [part one]

**Author's Note:**

> In addition to “Healing Light,” this story follows a short follow-up I wrote for last months’ 8 Days of Axel, [”In Memoriam.”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963040/chapters/60429118) You don’t necessarily need to read that story to understand this one, although if you’ve got a few minutes, well. ;)

**[i.]**

Laughter filtered through the creaky floorboards of the modest two-story house Lea had grown up in, right off the once-again bustling market district, as Isa carefully dipped another light blue candle in the melted wax he’d prepared that morning. Although Roxas and Naminé were _supposed_ to be making chalk outlines of the cardinal points he had traced for them, Isa suspected they’d gotten distracted and—judging from the rhythmic thumps and cheering—had instead drawn a hopscotch board right in the middle of the family room.

However, Isa didn’t begrudge the teenagers their fun; Roxas had begged to skip that days’ mission to keep Naminé company while she and Isa set up her first guided vision. Besides, Lea had _sworn_ to Isa that the ‘mission’ was hardly that, and more like a simple reconnaissance trip to one of the gentler worlds they’d encountered.

After reshaping the final candle and letting it cool in fresh spring water, Isa hung it to dry alongside the others. “ _Ganwy’n væ_ ,” he whispered, a small prayer for Lea and Xion’s safe return. His lips clumsily stuttered over each syllable of the lost language Lea taught him—and the same Lea still preferred to curse with, lest his wards found out just _how_ filthy Lea’s mouth was.

Isa sat back on his knees and watched the drying candles sway in the breeze that drifted in from a nearby window. As with the rapidly-cooling wax, Isa felt like his life was finally taking shape. Like pieces from two separate puzzles that still somehow fit together perfectly, Isa could not envision what his life would be like, or where he would be, without Lea. Certainly, this was not the future Isa ever pictured for himself, and like nothing he’d ever Seen, yet he could not imagine how his life— _their lives_ —could have taken any other path.

It had been over half a year since Isa recompleted—Samhuinn now weeks behind them—and as the nights grew longer, so too did the moon’s allure. However, Isa resisted her song, and instead devoted himself to a different, _brighter_ and _warmer_ medium. It grieved Isa to lose that connection to his past and his ancestry, however as Saïx he’d grown too dependent on the moon and her restless moods. Thus, while Lea spent his days training his body, Isa focused on strengthening his spirit and making peace with the divinities he had offended.

Regrettably, peace was not so easily made, with neither spirit nor—

“ _Ye-ouch_!”

—man.

Hours later, and Isa wondered if Lea’s gods had shunned him, too, judging from the state his lover was in.

“That _stings_ , y’know!” Lea whined as Isa tied a yarrow-infused bandage Xion had charmed herself (under Lea’s patient instruction) around a nasty injury on the redhead’s upper arm. As had become disconcertingly routine, Lea had returned from that day’s mission covered in bruises and barely-healed wounds. Xion, Ventus, and Aqua, meanwhile, had come back with nary a _scratch_.

“Good,” Isa replied. “Perhaps this way, you will be reminded to take better care of yourself.”

Time had healed _some_ wounds. Whatever festering chasm that formed between them had disappeared with Axel and Saïx’s passing, so that Lea and Isa were able to enjoy a comfortable partnership. The desperation of those early weeks after Isa’s recompletion were a fading memory, frantic clinging and uneasiness giving way to relaxed banter and joviality. Although their temperaments complemented one another for the most part, there was still the occasional argument or misunderstanding. And while Isa had gotten accustomed to their harmless bickering, he was quickly growing weary of having _this_ particular fight with his lover.

Lea scowled as Isa dabbed a thick paste on his cheek, which was swollen and bruised, before finally putting their well-used medkit away. He yanked his shirt back on, hissing as the sudden movement aggravated his wounds, and was about to leave when Isa stopped him with a soft, “Lea, wait.”

“What, Isa?” Lea asked, exasperated. He turned around, and threw his hands up, adding, “It’s not like I’m _tryin’_ to get hurt, you know!”

“I know that,” Isa replied. He felt himself becoming agitated as well, and couldn’t keep the bitter tone from his voice. “But perhaps if you brought a _competent_ healer on your missions—”

“Hey!” Lea shouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Isa glared. “You know precisely what I meant.” A tense moment passed as the men stared at each other, however Isa, always the more even-tempered of the pair, felt his temper subside, only to be replaced with bone-deep weariness. “I cannot keep doing this, Lea,” Isa said. “I cannot keep stitching you back together, just to watch you run off into harm’s way the very next day.”

“I— I know, Isa. I’m sorry,” Lea replied, his scowl softening. With a slight limp, he made his way to his and Isa’s bed and sat. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I am trying to be careful. And Xion’s healing spells _are_ getting better, I swear! It’s just—”

“No, what I said was out of line, and I apologize.” Isa sat beside Lea and, after a moment’s hesitation, took his lover’s hand in one of his own. His heart ached, and with effort Isa ignored the pang of jealousy he got whenever he thought about the unique heart-bond Lea, Xion, and Roxas shared as keybearers. “I didn't mean to insinuate that Xion’s abilities are in any way lacking. Nor your own,” he added, which caused Lea to snort derisively.

“Nah, you’re right. Xion’s great, but she’s still just gettin’ started, and I can’t heal so much as a papercut if it’s on me.” Lea squeezed Isa’s hand, yet despite the reassuring gesture, Isa felt tense and uneasy. Lea was not wrong; he’d made some progress, but still could not reliably heal himself. Privately, Isa had hoped that after Samhuinn both he and Lea— _especially Lea_ —would let all the ghosts that haunted them rest, and at last allow themselves to heal. That Lea had all-but given up on making amends and moving on was an argument they’d had several times without resolution.

However, it was more than that. “I’ve… Seen things,” Isa admitted, unable to meet Lea’s concerned gaze. “The same vision, over and over again for days. And each time, it’s gotten clearer.” If Isa shut his eyes, he’d surely see it; a brightly-lit room in chaotic disarray except for the still body at its center...

Out of the corner of his eye, Isa saw Lea bite his lip as he processed what Isa had said. After a minute, he cautiously said, “You didn’t tell me you were Seeing, _really_ Seeing, again.”

“That is because I did not realize that was what it was,” Isa replied. “At first, I thought they were only dreams— _nightmares_ ,” he corrected himself. Lea squeezed his hand a second time, and again, Isa felt his anxiety mount. What would it do to him, he wondered, if he lost Lea? The other half of his heart?

“Maybe that's all they are?” Lea asked. A soft glow emanated from his hands, and Isa felt an immediate release of tension throughout his body as Lea’s wild magic took effect. His eyelids grew heavy, reminding Isa that he had not gotten a full night’s sleep in several nights. “Y’know I don’t talk about it much, but I—” Lea paused, and his Light faded slightly. “—I still get nightmares, too. They always seem so real, but they’re only dreams.”

A moment passed, and then Isa exhaled, utterly exhausted. “Perhaps you’re right. Regardless, it hardly matters.” At Lea’s questioning look, Isa explained, “I am teaching Naminé a simple scrying technique tomorrow. Even if I am not the medium, it is likely I will divine _something_ , at the very least.”

“Hope it’s munny,” Lea said with a grin, “Or maybe, a vacation. I can see it now; you an’ me, all alone on one of those _special_ beaches where you aren’t supposed to wear anything—”

“And your backside burnt as red as your hair,” Isa teased. “Not even in your lewdest daydreams can you muster even a glimmer of actual Sight.”

“Maybe it’ll rub off on me, one of these days,” Lea replied, winking. He brought Isa’s fingers to his lips, giving them a chaste kiss before releasing him. “I promised Roxas I’d take him and Demyx to the arcade and let ‘em burn a hole through my pocket,” he said, wincing slightly as he stood.

Smiling tightly, Isa waved Lea off. “I’ll not hold out hope for a bountiful solstice present.”

Lea cackled. “Yeah, we’ll see.” Once Lea’d hobbled out into the hall, Isa laid back with a sigh. Perhaps Lea was right, and what he’d believed to be visionary insight was instead his own dread manifesting as terrible, haunting dreams. And, even if there was _some_ truth to be gleaned from those nightmares, Isa supposed it wasn’t fair of him to get on Lea’s case so often.

As a Seer, Isa preferred to plan for the future rather than dwell on the past. Even as _Saïx_ , Isa understood that he could not change the past, and that atonement could only come from what he did now, in the present. However, Lea did not see it as such. Whether for good or ill, Lea held on dearly to his memories. It was how he’d be remembered, he’d argue, that defined the man he was.

And yet, as Isa settled in for a much-needed nap, he could not help but wish that he could do more for Lea, to help his lover let some of those painful memories go.

“Moon, shine down,” Isa murmured as his eyes slipped shut. “So that I might See.”

**[ii.]**

“Ceromancy is an elementary ritual, however it’s one I have only recently begun to practice,” Isa explained as he gestured for Naminé to kneel beside him. The blonde joined him, and together the pair examined the chalk design Isa had asked her and Roxas to draw (and had then redrawn himself) the previous day. “This method balances fire and water, which I thought appropriate given our respective elemental foci.”

Naminé frowned, and Isa resisted the reflexive urge to question her. Since deciding to train the young witch, Isa’d learned that Naminé felt the weight of her every word, and thought each syllable through before speaking. It was a pleasant departure from what Isa was accustomed to, however he’d had to unlearn some of his own impulsive tendencies as a consequence.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” Naminé’s soft voice cut short, as if she was too afraid to fully speak her mind. Privately, Isa cursed all those—living, dead, or unknown—who had mistreated Naminé, as well as those who enabled that abuse, himself included. Still, for Naminé’s sake he kept his dark thoughts at bay, and offered her an encouraging smile instead.

“Go on. I promise, you will not offend me.”

Eyes wide, Naminé said, “Your aura, it doesn’t feel like fire to me.” She reached out, almost as if she were trying to touch it, some mystical force that only she could see. “It’s more like… moonlight. Not _fire_ , exactly, but its reflection.”

“You are… not incorrect,” Isa replied, carefully. Saïx had never personally interacted with Naminé, and Isa was uncertain how much Roxas, Xion, or even Lea had told her of his Nobody’s fervid devotion to the Organization’s false Kingdom Hearts. “However, I have discovered a newfound appreciation for fire, although whether I’m drawn to its primacy or its veracity, I cannot say.”

When Naminé smiled, it reflected a hint of her Somebody’s playful mischievousness. “Maybe it’s something, or _someone_ , else?”

Isa felt a heated flush bloom across his cheeks. He cleared his throat, and instead motioned toward the candles he’d set out. “What can you tell me about this arrangement?” he asked, unsubtly redirecting their conversation. Immediately, Naminé focused on the spread, and again Isa marvelled at how he’d gotten such an attentive student. Himself, he’d spent most of his own lessons daydreaming and wishing he were anywhere else while his grandmother patiently explained how to hold his hands, or where to focus his gaze. It was a miracle he’d learned anything at all.

“There are eight candles,” Naminé murmured, “Six here, and two more there. And, they’re all the same color, light blue.” She blinked, then looked up at Isa. “The numbers are important, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Isa replied. “Six is rooted in empathy, and healing. The western orientation also signifies healing, as well as the water element. Divination is not a precise art, but there are ways to shape what kinds of visions are brought forth.” What Isa _didn’t_ say, was that he’d chosen this layout for himself as much as Naminé. Since his Sight had returned, all his visions were the same: Lea, laid out on his back, his eyes closed. _Bleeding. Broken. Gone forever._ To See anything else, no matter how simple or mundane, would be an incredible relief.

Naminé nodded, and Isa continued. “The Southern face, this pair, represents fire and calls for intuition. It is important that you always balance your ritual, so that the magic does not run wild. Here, fire and water are balanced. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Naminé replied. “And the candles? What does the color mean?”

“While typically different colors are incorporated to affect vision, since our medium is the wax rather than the flames themselves, it’s best to have one single color so the Sight remains clear.” Isa gave Naminé a small smile. “Xion told me that this particular shade of blue is your favorite. I hope she was not mistaken.”

“It is,” Naminé whispered, and Isa felt his heart swell and break all at once at her smile, tiny and grateful. For a moment, he was tempted to do something rash, such as pull Naminé into a hug, but Isa refrained. He felt he had neither earned Naminé’s forgiveness, nor was he close enough to her to warrant such a display. (Later, he would ask Lea to give Naminé a hug to make up for his cowardice.)

Rather, Isa asked her, “Shall we begin?”

He lit the candles one at a time, perturbed—as ever—that he could not control his own elemental pyromancy well enough to ignite them properly. (Lea always made it seem so _effortless_.) “Focus,” Isa murmured, the quiet instruction meant for Naminé, as well as himself. “Breathe deeply, and permit your mind to wander.” Naminé nodded, folding her hands in her lap as Isa guided her into a simple meditative state. Unconsciously, he felt his own thoughts drift as well, drawn unerringly toward the flickering candlelight. Fragments danced across his vision—

_starlight._

_an endless inky ocean._

_fingers entwined as they gripped the edge of Nothingness._

—before he regained control.

Softly, Isa began to hum a low, quiet tone as Naminé sank further into her trance. The noise would help draw her Inner Eye more readily than words, and Isa lacked the presence of mind to mutter one of the old prayers. Eventually, Naminé went utterly still, gaze intent-yet-clouded as she watched the first droplet of powder-blue wax drip down the fourth candle to her left. To Isa, she looked serene, _peaceful_ even, and Isa hoped whatever portents she had begun to glimpse were encouraging.

With a steady hand, Isa took the fourth candle to his right and tipped it so that more wax flowed into the shallow basin. With a final glance at Naminé, now ensconced fully in the divination, Isa allowed himself to give him, swiftly carried down the path like wisps of smoke in the wind.

For Isa, the vision dawned on him like an awakening. In the flickering reflection of the flames, he saw hands soothing over sun-kissed skin—he heard voices that murmured unintelligible words—he felt a heartbeat, where once there had been naught but silence and stillness.

Then, the flames _danced_ , and Isa Saw—

_hands that were frantic and stained with bright, red blood…_

_voices that shouted and cried out,_ no, don’t do this don’t you _dare_ do this _…_

_and a straining heartbeat that faded into nothingness…_

_a lover’s whisper in its final beat…_

**{What is it you seek?}**

_Forgive me._

“Isa!”

With a rush, Isa returned to himself to find Naminé by his side with her hands on his shoulders, still shaking him. Her bright blue eyes were wide and worried, and over the racing of his heart Isa found that nearly all the candles had been extinguished, knocked over alongside the basin. Both water and wax had spilled out across the floor, and Isa noted dazedly that his clothes were damp. Only one candle remained upright and lit; the last he’d made, the anchor of both elements. _The heart._

Sighing shakily, Isa offered a wordless prayer to the Moon and pinched it out as Naminé breathlessly asked, “What happened? Was it… did I do something wrong?”

Isa shook his head, wincing as the movement sent a sharp, stabbing ache through his temples. “Forgive me, Naminé. You did nothing wrong, but I am—” Isa’s voice trailed off as he looked over the havoc he had unwittingly, _unknowingly_ wrought. “I didn’t mean to delve so deeply, myself, and was lost. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Naminé, still shaken, nodded nevertheless. Visions exact a heavy toll—that was the first thing Isa taught her, months earlier. The more powerful the medium—or clarifying the portent—the greater the likelihood the Seer would lose themselves. (Hence, why so many diviners, including many of Isa’s own ancestors, were labeled mad.)

Embarrassed, Isa met Naminé’s concerned eyes and offered her a weak smile. “I hope you were able to find something for yourself, at the very least,” he said. Naminé nodded again, delicately picking at the wax that had melted down and joined together, forming an inseparable whole in the bone-dry basin.

“Yes, I think so,” she replied. “It’s hard to see, but I’m sure I felt something.” Naminé clenched her fist over her heart, head bowed and eyes closed as she went on, “At first I was very sad and afraid, but then I felt the most wonderful feeling. It was _joy_ ,” she said, smiling brightly at Isa. “I wish I could have Seen it, though.”

“You will, in time,” Isa told her. Between the Organization and Ansem’s manipulations of her gifts, not to mention her own replication, Naminé’s abilities had been shaken to their very foundations. And yet, Isa sensed in her such raw talent, not unlike the innate healing magic Lea had sensed in Xion. “Hopefully, if your Sight is true, we all will soon enough.”

Despite Naminé’s hopeful, encouraged smile, Isa couldn’t help but doubt his own sentiment. How could he, when in his mind’s eye could not stop picturing how _Lea_ had looked and sounded as he—

— _as he passed._

Isa spent the rest of the afternoon in a detached fog. Acidic fear roiled in his gut, and Isa deliberately avoided Lea’s concerned eyes as he picked at his dinner, only barely following along as Roxas excitedly recounted all they had seen and done in a world comprised entirely of candy (and that seemed oddly intent on… _racing_ , of all things). He excused himself before the dishes were even finished, brimming with anxious energy and no idea how to expend it.

It was eerily reminiscent of the visions Isa suffered in the weeks leading up to (and including) their short-lived stint as Ansem’s—or rather, Xehanort’s—apprentices. What had started, as a nagging sense of foreboding had steadily intensified into uncontrollable visions that struck without warning, even outside the tightly-controlled confines of ritual and scrying. Then, as now, Lea had dismissed Isa’s growing alarm, too preoccupied with his mother’s unexplained disappearance, and then the horrifying discoveries they’d made in the castle dungeons. And so, Isa silently suffered night after sleepless night, helpless to prevent his and Lea’s deaths and the fall of their homeworld.

With gritted teeth, Isa resisted the urge to glance out the window and into the night sky, and the waning crescent set high above. Isa knew better than to look, that the mixed medium would conjure naught but confusing, contradictory images. No matter how sweetly the moon seemed to croon, he would _not_ give in. Instead, Isa pulled the curtains closed as Lea came in from the attached bathroom, steam clouding in his wake as he roughly toweled his hair dry. In addition to all the faded scars dotted across his lanky body—like the senseless crater Saïx had mindlessly created on his right flank—a new wash of bruises painted Lea’s shoulders and back in painful-looking shades of blue, purple, and black.

Isa glanced away, and caught a glimpse of the moon just beyond the curtains—

_blood._

_starlight._

_a ringing chime in the distance,_

_slowly counting down..._

Isa blinked. He must’ve drifted for a few seconds, trapped in the cruel clutches of his own memory, because Lea had already changed into a loose sleep shirt and was looking at Isa with open, obvious concern.

“I lost you for a second there, didn’t I?” Lea asked. Isa frowned; Lea _always_ did that, made it sound as if he had _lost_ Isa, and never the other way around. Isa tried not to let it upset him, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off his building migraine; a consequence of Seeing too much, too soon. Lea suffered terrible abandonment anxiety that bordered on phobia, but sometimes Isa wished that Lea remembered that he, too, had watched helplessly as the only person who mattered to him—the sole remaining connection to his fading humanity—left him _in the dust_.

Lea lived in fear that he would be forgotten, but Isa could not even _entertain_ the thought.

“Talk to me, Isa,” Lea said, regaining Isa’s attention. “What’s goin’ on?”

For a moment, Isa was tempted to demur, to change the topic or ignore Lea altogether. But, that is what _Saïx_ would have done, and Isa had sworn when he burnt his coat to ashes all those months ago that he would not make those same mistakes. So instead, Isa held his arms open, a silent plea for Lea to come closer—and with a small smile, Lea did. Minutes passed in quiet tranquility as Isa simply _held_ Lea, breathing in his scent, rich cedar and woodsmoke. Slowly, Isa felt the tension eke out of him as he basked in the warmth of his lover, who glowed softly in their otherwise-dim bedroom.

“I performed a ritual with Naminé earlier,” Isa confessed. Lea hummed, but said nothing as Isa gathered his thoughts. “And I Saw— It,” Isa’s throat felt dry, and he struggled to get the words out. “The same vision that has… _plagued_ me. For weeks.”

“So, it _is_ a vision then? The real deal,” Lea muttered. “What is it? What’ve you been Seeing that’s got you so worked up?”

Isa hesitated. To reveal someone’s fate to them, especially the details of their passing, was known to be a grave sin; to tempt fate in such a manner was all-but certain to weave the ethereal wisps of vision into an unavoidable Truth.

“I… I cannot,” Isa whispered. He buried his face in Lea’s throat and ignored how his throat burned and his eyes stung as tears slid, warm and salty, down Lea’s skin and soaked into the neckline of his shirt.

“ _Shh,_ I gotcha. It’s okay, Isa.” A soft glow suffused their bedroom as Lea shone brighter, calling on his vast healing magic for the second time in as many nights. However, for the first time that Isa could remember, his Light did not bring him any relief. Instead, Isa wept harder, as though he were already in mourning.

“L-Lea…” he sobbed, his voice choked. Isa ran trembling fingers across the bruises that blemished Lea’s skin, which stubbornly refused to heal despite the ample healing magic that radiated from within him. Lea, who’d always been smarter than he liked to let on, understood what Isa tried to—but could not—say.

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to Isa’s temple. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Isa could not speak for the force of his tears. Had he been able, however, he would have told Lea:

_Do_ _not make promises that you cannot keep._


	2. [part two]

**[iii.]**

The next morning dawned with skies heavy and dark with the promise of rain. Despite the dreary atmosphere, Isa woke feeling refreshed, as well as a little chagrined. He had slept deeply and without dreaming, and already the previous night’s panic seemed like an overreaction. In his haste to regain his Sight and to heal the psychic and physical wounds of the past decade, Isa had forgotten one of the most basic teachings, one he’d learned as a child and the same he’d emphasized to Naminé just a few months earlier: _It is always darkest just before the dawn._

Or, as he’d explained to Naminé, there are no ‘bad’ omens, nor are there truly ‘good’ visions. _The universe remains in balance, even if we cannot perceive it for ourselves,_ he’d said. It was a lesson Isa had forgotten precisely because it was easy to forget. He’d thought that his portents of his and Lea’s deaths were the end of the world—and in a way, he’d been right. But for all their suffering, Lea and Isa wouldn’t trade Roxas, Naminé, or Xion for the world.

Isa needed to trust the hands of fate, and his lover besides. _The most wonderful feeling_ , that was what Naminé had prophesied. _Joy._

Isa found his lover in the garden, shining almost as bright as the sun. It was one of those rare mornings where Lea was up before Isa, who allowed himself a moment to simply ogle the redhead; Lea’d left his shirt on their bedroom floor, lithe muscles on full display as he hoed. Like always, Lea was softly glowing as he worked, a quiet happiness that stemmed from playing in the dirt.

Eventually, however, Lea looked up and caught Isa’s eye, who blushed at being found openly staring. Lea smiled, easy and carefree, as he stood and wiped dirt off his knees and backside. (By then, Isa’s ears were burning, as well.)

“S’that coffee?” Lea asked, voice hopeful as he tried to peer into the steaming mug Isa had brought with him. With a raised eyebrow, Isa handed his morning tea to Lea, chuckling softly at the redhead’s exaggerated groan. “What even _is_ that?”

“It’s a white tea steeped with strawberries and mint,” Isa replied, smug as he took his cup back. “One would think you’d be more interested, considering you planted both.”

“Well, the tea’s not mine,” Lea said with a smirk. “And, y’know, it’s not _coffee_ , but I guess it’ll do.”

“How generous.” The pair shared a soft, secret smile. In the distance, thunder rumbled. “What are your plans for the day?” Isa asked as Lea broke eye contact and warily glanced up at the darkening clouds. The glowing faded, and Lea sighed.

“Kairi’s awake,” he said, surprising Isa. (Although thinking back, he dimly recalled Roxas having mentioned that, or something similar, the previous evening.) “Ienzo’s crunched the numbers or whatever, and it looks like we might find some clues about Sora on some new world called ‘Gaia.’ It’s pretty high-tech, or so I’m told, so safe enough that Naminé wants to tag along.” Lea scratched his head, betraying his nerves with the oft-unconscious gesture. Isa forced himself to take a deep, relaxing breath, and reminded himself of the commitment he’d made mere hours earlier.

“I trust Naminé to keep you out of trouble, above all others,” Isa replied, tamping down his own anxiety for Lea’s sake. “Besides that, Naminé has not seen Kairi in quite some time. I know she misses her.”

“Yeah, Xion and Roxas do, too. We’ll probably spend most of the day gabbin’, not that I’m complaining,” Lea said, dropping his arm to the side. “Which reminds me. I’ve been thinkin’—”

“An auspicious omen, surely.”

“Hush,” Lea scoffed, however the effect was dampened by his mischievous smile. “Look, I know how much it’s been botherin’ you, me and the kids going out on mission after mission. And, uh, well… I know I haven’t been taking care of myself like I oughta.” At Isa’s bemused expression, Lea quickly added, “Well, you know how I was joking around the other night about a vacation?”

“I recall your interest in taking me to a nude beach, yes.”

Lea smirked, and took one of Isa’s hands into his own, twining their fingers together. “There’s _one_ option, at least. So, how about when I get home tonight, we sit down—you and me—and come up with a few other ideas. _Something_ , just the two of us.”

“That might be the best plan you’ve ever come up with.” Isa squeezed Lea’s hand, and ignored how dread rose like bile in his throat. It took nearly every ounce of strength Isa possessed to maintain his smile, but it must’ve convinced Lea, who chuckled as he cupped Isa’s jaw with his other hand.

“I thought you might like it,” he murmured, bringing their foreheads together. “Got somethin’ special I’ve been saving up.”

 _Joy._ Isa could feel it, a tidal wave of anticipatory giddiness lapping at the edges of his heart, but the apprehension was so great, it could not take root. His heart felt too full, and for a moment Isa wished to be rid of it again, just so he could _think_ clearly.

Fortunately—or not—Lea hadn’t noticed Isa’s distress. He brought their lips together, already open for his lover as he kissed Isa lovingly, a wordless _goodbye._ A single tear rolled down Isa’s cheek as he closed his eyes, deepening the kiss as if he could protect Lea, and keep him by his side always.

Even after Lea left, Isa struggled to control his emotions. The peacefulness he’d woken with had already vanished, leaving him agitated and unnerved. Isa had already lost so much; his home, his family, his sense of self and bodily autonomy. He’d lost _his life_ , three times over. Without Lea, and the tenuous lives they’d built from the rubble of their past selves, Isa would be utterly lost. Objectively, he understood that the scales of fate would be weighed regardless of his wants or interventions, but… _damn it_. Was it so wrong, he wondered, to want _Lea_ and nothing else?

The clouds darkened, yet the promised rain never came. Isa whittled away the hours, refusing to acknowledge the creeping trepidation building in his gut and tightening his chest. He left a trail of half-finished chores and projects in his wake; clean-yet-unfolded laundry, a partially-dusted kitchen, an incomplete grocery list. He tried to read, and when that didn’t work, tried to write instead. Still, Isa couldn’t focus past a few amateurish lines and unfinished stanzas.

After he’d forced himself to eat a few measly bites of the previous night’s leftovers, Isa conceded that rain wasn’t coming, and retreated outdoors. He hoped to find respite in Lea’s ever-expanding garden, but all Isa managed was to get even more worked up. Isa got on his knees and began weeding, by hand, the row Lea had been working earlier that morning. It was tedious, mind-numbing work, and Isa hoped that it would keep him distracted from his fraying nerves. But Isa didn’t share Lea’s cultivated love for gardening, inherited from his grandfather, one of the kingdom’s last _true_ hedgewitches.

Frowning, Isa noticed how one of the bright-yellow coreopsis flowers looked poorly, as if it had wilted in the absence of the sun. However, just as Isa reached out towards the sagging blossom he heard the tell-tale sound of a gummiship landing nearby, followed by the front door swinging open. (With so many keybearers in the family, Isa wondered why he even bothered locking it.)

Isa quickly stood and brushed off his pants, expecting to see Roxas or Xion grinning excitedly, or—he wished desperately—Lea with a cocky grin plastered across his face. Instead he found Kairi, alone and muddied, clothes bloodstained despite no sign of injury. Kairi’s expression was grim, however her red, watery eyes told Isa that she’d only just stopped crying. Dread filled his chest, the pit of his stomach, as his pulse pounded in his ears. Unbidden, bursts of Sight flashed before his eyes like a horrifying display—

_sparkling electricity._

_flickering flames._

_smoke, and—_

_—deafening silence._

Even before she spoke, Isa knew what Kairi would tell him.

“It’s Lea,” she said, voice wavering as she swallowed another sob. “You need to come quick.”

**[iv.]**

Dilan met them at the castle gate, perfectly coiffed with not a single _hair_ out of place. Isa wanted to _howl_ , choking on his own agonized screams at the mindless fury of all the worlds’ moons cried out to him. He was primed to unleash, to tread down the same dark roads his Nobody once traveled. Whatever composure he’d possessed earlier was lost, gripped as he was by the fear— by the _certainty_ that what he’d Seen was upon them. And that Dilan, of all men, greeted them seemed especially cruel; after all, it had been Lea, with the other Guardians’ assistance, who recovered Dilan’s wife after she’d been written off for dead. Isa could not bear it, then, if Dilan were to tell him—

To tell him that—

“His condition is critical, but Lea is still alive,” Dilan said. Despite his grim cadence, Dilan’s expression was kind, and that alone was enough to quell Isa’s anger. “Aeleus is in the atrium, Isa, and will escort you from there to the laboratory. Kairi,” he added, addressing the badly-shaken young woman, “Naminé and the others are in the library. Please, allow me to accompany you.”

Isa all-but raced through the opulent galleries, his apprehension growing with each and every step. He had not felt his fragile composure fray so rapidly, _so completely_ since his recompletion; unbeknownst to Isa, frenetic blue flame flickered off his fingertips, barely contained. In his desperation to reach Lea, Isa did not spare himself a single second to prepare for what he’d see when he stepped inside that room.

_lunacy. starlight. stillness._

He had Seen it all before.

Inside was absolute pandemonium. Stained bandages littered the floor as Even tore open drawer after drawer. “It simply does not make any sense,” Even said, his voice edging hysterical as each shelf failed to contain whatever-it-was he sought after. “He’s a damned _healer_ , for pity’s sake!”

“Even, _please_ , I need the— Oh! Isa,” Ienzo exclaimed, having spotted Isa where he lingered in the doorway. The laboratory was in complete disarray, with spellbooks strewn about and half-empty vials of glowing potions and elixirs tossed carelessly on what little available surface space there was. And in the midst of it all, lying impossibly still and silent, was Lea.

It was as if time stopped. Despite the flurry of activity, Isa neither heard nor saw any of it, drawn helplessly to Lea’s side. Lea looked like he had been electrocuted, covered in harsh burns that striped down his arms and torso beneath tattered clothes. Whatever it was had struck him repeatedly, lacerations laid atop already-forming bruises. His fingers twitched sporadically as through an electrical current was still coursing through him. Isa felt his own fingers tingle with raw power as visions flashed before his eyes: of him, burying Lea beside his mothers—

—holding Lea’s wards, their adopted siblings-slash-children, as they wept;

—growing older, but not _much_ older, until he, too, succumbed to grief and loneliness.

“— _sa._ Isa!” Shaken, Isa was torn from his premonition by Even’s grating tone. The scientist regarded him with the _tiniest_ shred of sympathy, which only heightened Isa’s alarm. “Tell us, is Lea sensitive to any herbal remedies or spelled interventions?”

Isa tried to speak, but he couldn’t muster a single syllable. Instead, he shook his head. Even cursed under his breath and resumed his fruitless rummaging, as Ienzo explained, “His wounds are treatable but for some reason none of our remedies are working. At first I wondered if perhaps I was miscasting, but neither Even nor Aeleus’s spells have had any effect. Master Ansem is consulting with healers from the neighboring principalities, but so far, none have offered any explanation for why the magic is failing.”

With effort, Isa managed to speak. “Lea has, _ah_ , been struggling. To heal himself.” As had been true for months, the healing magic gathered over Lea’s skin, unable to touch him. Isa laid his hand on Lea’s blistered forearm, oblivious to the bright blue sparks that glanced along his skin. Ienzo’s curative blessing, desperate to heed its master’s instruction, curled around Isa’s wrist before dissipating, and Isa watched in disbelief as one of the smaller burns slowly mended itself.

The sight stirred a peculiar memory, one that Isa had nearly forgotten. The first, and only, time he’d met Lea’s grandfather; a curmudgeonly old hedgewitch who, if he was to be believed, had single-handedly cured every Radiant Garden soldier after a failed invasion from a neighboring foe. It had been the last time the kingdom had been attacked, and Lea’s grandfather had barely been out of his teens at the time.

 _Nu-uh, grandpa!_ Lea’d said, nine-years-old and wholly certain of himself. _There’s no way! How’d you fix so many people at once, huh?_

Isa remembered how the old man winked, pipe bobbing up-and-down in his mouth as he replied, _The trick is, ya gotta be young and dumb enough to think you can do it._ Meanwhile, Lea’s mother—his daughter—kept interrupting him: _Knock it off, pops. The kids don’t wanna hear your old war stories. You’re just gonna give ‘em nightmares._

Lea’s grandfather had scoffed, _The nightmares’ll find ‘em no matter what, girl. Can’t protect ‘em from that._ Then, he’d looked directly at Isa, the old man’s eyes the same emerald hue as Lea’s, and said, _Remember this, son. There’s no healin’ the dead._

Then, Isa remembered being confused, and not a little bit intimidated by the old codger. Now, feeling wild and feverish, Isa turned toward Ienzo and Even, and asked, “Is it possible to transfer healing magic _through_ someone? Like a medium, of sorts?”

“He’s gone into shock,” Even said, and it was evident in his tone that he did not mean Lea. “Surely you are not so daft as to confuse spellcasting with whatever psychic buffoonery—”

“That is not what I meant,” Isa snapped, arm flung to the side as he gestured. “There are three keybearers in your library this very moment—one of whom is a Princess of Heart—and a powerful sorceress, besides.”

Even glared. “I fail to see how any of those four _children_ could be of help. Lea needs medical intervention, Isa. Keyblades are simply too dangerous—”

“Lea is a keybearer,” Isa interjected, unaffected at how Even’s eye twitched from being interrupted a second time. “You cannot deny the strength of his heart. If one of them is able to open a connection—”

“It is theoretically possible,” Ienzo chimed in. (Even’s eye twitched again.) “If there is a suitable surrogate to channel the magic, I don’t see why it _wouldn’t_ work. However,” he added, “the ability to link two hearts in such a manner lies beyond our capacities.”

 _Ya gotta be young and dumb enough to think you can do it,_ Isa heard, then said, “If it is possible, then we will make it work. Prepare a simple protection spell,” he instructed Ienzo, “and I will speak to Kairi, Naminé, and the others.”

“ _Wait!_ ” Even’s pleading tone stopped Ienzo and Isa short, as they stared at the older scientist with varying degrees of impatience. “Listen to yourselves! They are _children_ , Isa… Ienzo.” Even shook his head. “It was not so long ago that the two, the _three_ of you,” he said, gesturing to Lea—who laid so still, so blissfully unaware—“were discussed in the same way, in this very room.

“I will not insult your partnership with Lea by pretending to understand its depth, Isa,” Even went on, “but surely you must see that this— this is absurd. Think of the harm it would cause them, to see their friend and guardian in this state. It is tantamount to psychological torture, and I will not stand idly by…” Even trailed off. His hands were clenched by his sides, and his head bowed. Much quieter, he went on, “I will condone any action that will harm an innocent child. Never again.”

“It would do them more harm to—” Isa could hardly say the words “—lose Lea. We cannot protect them from every nightmare,” he added, his voice oddly hollow, as though echoing from the beyond. “But we cannot deny them, or Lea, a chance to choose another path.”

Even held Isa’s gaze for a long moment, and for the first time Isa appreciated the physical and mental toll _atonement_ had taken on the older man. Even looked like a man who had made one too many terrible decisions in his life, and suffered greatly for them—another nightmare, another twist of fate Isa, too, might come to experience firsthand.

But, there was no time for regrets. Isa turned to Ienzo, voice firm as he said, “Prepare the ritual.”

Even looked away, but did not protest as Ienzo nodded. “We’ll take care of things here.”

“Thank you,” Isa replied. He pressed a gentle kiss to Lea’s brow, then hurried from the laboratory toward the library. It was a short distance, but far enough that his hopes were raised _just_ enough to be crushed when Kairi said his last-ditch effort was impossible, even for keyblade wielders.

“That’s not how it works,” she said mournfully. They’d all huddled together, Kairi holding Roxas’s hand, who in turn had Xion cradled between his legs as the noirette sobbed; only Naminé stood apart. “Isa, what you’re suggesting… that’s how we lost Sora,” Kairi explained. “If Lea’s gone _there_ , to the land of sea and sky, then there’s nothing we can do to bring him back.”

“That’s not true.”

Although quiet, Naminé’s voice captured all their attention—even Dilan’s where he lurked in the corner like a silent protector. “The final world rests at the very end of memory and life, and it will return whatever has been lost to it. For a price,” she added.

“I’ll pay that price.” Before Isa could say more, he was interrupted by Xion and Roxas, who shouted—

“Isa, no! There’s _got_ to be another way!”

“Axel wouldn’t want that, he wouldn’t!”

Isa shook his head, and held up a hand. Once they quieted, he clarified, “I did not mean my life. I made Lea promise not to enter a similar bargain for his mothers, and I won’t dishonor him by doing the exact same thing and offering my life in exchange for his.”

“Then, what will you give?” Kairi asked.

 _I have no earthly idea,_ Isa thought, even as he replied, “That is between Lea and myself. Once one of you has connected with his heart, then I—”

“Roxas and Xion cannot dive into Lea’s heart,” Naminé said. “Neither can Kairi. Only the deepest and earliest connections lead to that place.”

“I am not a keybearer.”

“The keyblade can open the door, yes, but it is not the only way.” Naminé came forward, and hesitantly placed one of her hands over Isa’s, the touch feather-light yet somehow grounding Isa in the present. The fragmented spectres that haunted him faded. However, his doubt and despair remained, even as Naminé insisted, “Your bond with Lea has already outlasted death twice. Why would you question it’s strength?”

Clarity struck Isa like a bolt of lightning. He was not resigned to a life that held no meaning unless Lea was there to provide it; their _bond_ , as Naminé put it, was much deeper than that. Lea was his _heart_ , just as Isa was his _soul_. They were two halves of altogether different wholes, and all the better for it.

Isa knew the price. And he would pay it, without question.

“What must I do?” For weeks, Isa had dreaded this moment—when he would be helpless to do anything but watch as Lea stumbled, suffered, and perished. And yet, no matter how tenuous his grip was, Lea still clung to life. Isa hadn’t been able to keep Lea from falling into the darkness before, but he’d been given a second chance. This time, he would catch Lea. Visions be damned; Isa would accept no other Truth.

Naminé bit her lip nervously, but held onto Isa as she said, “I can show you the way, but from there you’ll be alone. I don’t know what will happen then. I’m sorry.”

Perhaps it was the gravity of the moment, or the sincerity in Naminé’s eyes… or maybe Isa simply needed to feel that hopeful trust for himself. Whatever the reason, he acted blindly and wrapped Naminé in a tight, desperate hug. Naminé did not hesitate in returning the gesture as she buried her head in Isa’s chest and squeezed with all her strength.

To Isa’s absolute shock, he felt another thin pair of arms curl around him, followed by another, and then another as Xion, Roxas, and even Kairi joined their embrace. Shaken, Isa let his forehead rest atop Naminé’s crown. For the first time since he’d originally lost his heart, Isa felt like he _belonged_ , that he was part of something greater than himself. A family— _his family_ —that was relying on him to bring Lea home. For _them,_ just as much as for himself.

The atmosphere in the laboratory was more subdued when Isa returned. Someone—Isa suspected Aeleus—had swept up the soiled bandages and scattered vials. The lights were dimmed, and two white candles were situated at Lea’s head and feet. A circle of salt and ash had been poured around Lea’s gurney; a simple healing ritual, just as Isa requested. In contrast to Lea, who had been raised with wild magic borne from the earth and the endless cycle of death and rebirth, Isa knew ritual and rigid practice best. The common protection spell might have done little to aid them, but it lent Isa a measure of reassurance.

As he approached Lea, Isa noticed that a slip of crumpled paper had been tucked into Lea’s loosely-clenched fist, torn from the still-open lexicon that lay on the far side of the room. While Isa took his seat at Lea’s side, Naminé nodded to Xion, who lit both of the candles with a snap of her fingers; Lea’s showmanship, shining through. Naminé took Isa’s left hand and set it directly over Lea’s heart. He could feel its weak thready beat. “Close your eyes,” Naminé instructed, and Isa did. He felt Naminé’s hand settle atop his, and the other over his own thunderous pulse. “Are you ready?” she asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I am,” Isa replied. The room went still, almost as if the world was holding its breath, and then—

_“Sleep.”_

He dropped.


	3. [part three]

**[v.]**

It was not unlike sinking into a vision. Isa could still feel his body—his aching shoulders and roiling stomach—alongside a gentle falling sensation. It was an odd sensation, to experience weightlessness while also descending. Were it not for the panic that gripped his heart, Isa would have even called it peaceful.

A rush akin to a wave passed over him and suddenly Isa was… _elsewhere._ Before him were two diverging paths. The first was awash in pale moonlight, and led toward a thick wooded grove Isa remembered from his youth. It was the same road he’d traversed weeks earlier for Samhuinn. For Isa, it was the road _home_. The second trail was much smaller, smoldering faintly and lined by thorny acacia. There was light there as well, but it was dimmer. _Fading._ It was not a path meant for Isa to take.

And yet, he set off towards the burrs and coals nevertheless.

Each step was more difficult than the last. To Isa, it felt like the branches were trying to hold him back, and the needles’ scratches an attempt to frighten him away. A deep dread overwhelmed Isa, then _guilt_ , as intense as he’d felt on that morning almost a year ago when he’d completed— _Isa_ for the first time in a decade. He felt heavy with it, like a hundred tons— _a thousand_ —were bearing him down into the blood-soaked soil, caked with ash. But this was not Isa’s guilt, although he’d Seen it before, once, in the dancing flames of the vernal bonfire.

This was _Lea’s_ guilt—his unfinished atonement wrapped in a vice-like grip around his heart.

Isa could feel the healing magic at his back. There was Aeleus’s firmness, Ienzo’s reserved optimism, and even Even’s contrition. Kairi and Roxas lent their Light as well, and Xion’s strength shined through brightest of all; at last, Isa understood why Lea had such faith in her abilities. But for all their combined strength, the magic could not breach the thick brambles that blocked the path forward.

 _Forgive me_ , it seemed to say. _I’m so, so sorry._

With guilt like a lead weight in his stomach, Isa fell to his knees, mindless of how the thorns tore into his clothes and skin. “I can’t make you forgive yourself,” he said, speaking to the viney tangle as though it were Lea, himself. “But that won’t prevent _me_ from forgiving you.

"I forgive you for not listening to me when I first foresaw our deaths, all those years ago.” Isa focused on a weathered patch of wild rose, their petals pink and paper-thin. “I have never blamed you for what happened to us. We were _children_ , Lea,” Isa added, Even’s pleading voice an echo in his thoughts. “You can let it go.” The roses withered and shrank, and Isa turned his attention to a snaking tangle of firethorn branches that were dotted with bright, blood-red berries.

Isa ran his fingers over one of the nearest limbs, and felt a strange _numbness_ come over him. He barely felt the prickling sting of the thorns as _woodsmoke_ assaulted his senses.

_Axel, then._

“I forgive you for all the atrocities you committed at my behest, and for dirtying your hands for my ruthless quest for power,” Isa murmured. The numbness broke, and _shame_ , deep and powerful came spilling forth— and, to Isa’s horror, the tiniest bit of _enjoyment_.

Judgement followed, harsh and unchecked. Isa, or rather _Saïx_ had read the reports of what happened at Castle Oblivion. He knew what misdeeds Axel was responsible for, and too, he knew that after Oblivion Axel came back different. _Changed_ , somehow. But Saïx would have never, _could_ have never guessed that it was _this_ —this wicked thrill buried at the core of Axel’s budding heart that caused such pain and distress.

“Was I so different?” Isa asked, both of himself and the thorns. He remembered the faux euphoria of his berserk, and how he let the corrupted moonlight of the Organization’s Kingdom Hearts twist him beyond recognition. “We are not those men any longer, Lea. I can’t forgive all Axel’s sins, but I will take my share of their weight.”

The firethorns shriveled, but did not fade as completely as the roses had. Still, they sagged enough to reveal the final barrier; a wide locust tree that had been scorched black that had grown right in the middle of the path. Lea’s deepest regret, the guilt he refused to acknowledge, lest he be (in his mind, unfairly) absolved. And, as luck would have it, it was the lone burden that Isa—and only Isa—could lift.

“And most of all, I forgive you for leaving me. For forgetting me.”

The entire copse shuddered as the locust tree _cracked_ , a great fissure splitting the trunk as Isa pulled himself to standing. “I know you didn’t mean to,” Isa continued, “and so, I forgive you, Lea.” The crack deepened, as though struck by a bolt of lightning, so Isa repeated, “I _forgive you,_ Lea.

“Now, _let me through._ ”

The twisted thicket erupted in a sudden flash that momentarily blinded Isa. When he could see again, he found himself someplace new—suspended in space and floating several inches above a great platform made entirely of stained glass and wrought iron. A dazzling melange of red, yellow, and orange hues flickered beneath its surface, such that the entire scene seemed alive, and constantly in flux.

Once, Isa had confessed how enthralling he thought Lea’s keyblade was, the physical expression of his lover’s heart. Foolishly, he believed nothing he’d ever witness could compare to that luminous blade that shone with every out of Lea’s dedication, pride, ambition, and most of all, his _passion_ for life. And yet, Isa had been wrong.

Lea’s heart, his _true_ heart, was far more rapturous to gaze upon.

The stained-glass mosaic pictured a three-tiered fountain unlike any Isa had ever seen before. Its base appeared like a giant tree whose roots extended out beyond the platform’s edges and into the misty unknown. In the stained glass, Isa saw images of Lea’s mothers and grandfather; himself, younger and unscarred; and a blonde Isa knew was Ventus, as well as a murky figure who they’d only known as “X.”

Further up, and the fountain went… dark. Isa couldn’t make out the shape, exactly, although it might’ve been akin to Twilight Town’s iconic clock tower. Smoke poured from this level, acrid with a hint of salty sweetness. If there were any impressions there, Isa could not see them for the fumes.

Finally, the highest and smallest tier rose from the ashes like a fountain of flame. Roxas, Xion, Naminé, Kairi, and others were portrayed in serene coppertone. However, the largest figures there were Isa and Lea, himself, relaxed and propped against the fountain like it was nothing more than an elaborate backrest. He held his keyblade, Cleansing Fire, in one hand, and Axel’s chakrams in the other, Flame Liberator a wispy illusion that lurked behind the spokes. His eyes were closed as if in sleep; one cheek was marked with an upside-down teardrop, the other bare. _Axel. Lea._ One and the same.

Although it was present for every stage of Lea’s life, Isa’s own visage was blurry. Unfixed. It hurt his eyes to look upon himself, almost as if he were staring directly into the sun. He would appear, then fade, at times by Lea’s side, then far away. He was almost too present, yet at the same time, nearly nonexistent.

As Isa puzzled over his own reflection, a voice—silent yet deafening, nowhere and everywhere at once—called to him from the darkness.

**{What is it you seek?}**

_That voice._ Isa had heard it once before, in his waking visions. It was neither male nor female, and timeless; a child’s innocence and a crone’s weariness wound together. Isa had consorted with enough otherworldly beings to know that this voice spoke to him from _Beyond_.

It was an awesome privilege to hear it, yet Isa was undeterred. He spoke clearly and without hesitation. “I seek peace. Healing. Atonement, for him, as well as myself.” A distant chiming rang out, a weathered, rusted bell atop a wondrous clock tower. It tolled again, an ominous countdown from twelve.

 _Ten_ , then—

_tiiiing-ckliiiing_

_Nine._

**{There is no greater peace,**

**than neverending rest.}**

“But for the dead, there is no healing,” Isa argued. At last, he understood what Lea’s grandfather had meant all those years ago. “Let me heal him. _Please._ ” On the platform, Isa’s likeness reappeared behind Lea, blanketing his slender body like a protective shield. In his mind’s eye, Isa remembered all the times he’d stood up for Lea, as well as Saïx’s efforts to spare him from a fate even worse than losing his heart.

The bell chimed. _Eight._ Smoke poured from the fountain’s middle tier. Screams and dark laughter filled the void, then a chortling voice: _Hey, wait. I’m_ enjoying _this._ Isa shivered despite himself, his earlier revulsion returning with a vengeance. Axel sounded so _gleeful_ , absolutely _thrilled_ to carry out Saïx’s lethal orders. It reminded him of another time Saïx had been witness to Axel’s unrepentant descent—

_I eliminated Zexion._

**{He has caused immense pain.}**

“His sins are no greater than my own,” Isa retorted. Their objectives, if not their methods, were shared. _Seven_. “Our pasts are entwined, and so, too, are our futures. Together, we will make amends. Give us this chance.”

**{Who are _you_ to decide what is just?}**

_Six._ The tolls grew louder, and the flames flickered beneath stained glass. “That doesn’t matter. He is my purpose, and I am his. Our hearts are connected. As long as I still draw breath, you will not take him from me.” _Five._

**{To take, one must also give.**

**What are you prepared to sacrifice?}**

The mosaic shifted, stained glass tiles shifting so suddenly Isa could not follow them. After the image settled, he saw that he’d disappeared altogether and the once-vibrant colors had darkened. Although Lea’s friends remained bound to his heart, they’d been pushed aside so that Lea appeared alone. His eyes were open wide and hellfire-bright, with both cheeks now marked; distantly, Isa wondered who would have given Lea his charms in his absence.

Nonetheless, it was not _Axel_ , but rather _Lea_ Isa Saw—his lover given entirely to the fires of vengeance and the thrill of violence. A wild inferno encircled Lea like a demented halo, who held an entirely new Keyblade, obsidian-black and brittle as charcoal, at the ready.

 _It is not the only way._ That’s what Naminé had said. It was an option, but _this_ was the sacrifice that Isa could not make. If he traded his life for Lea’s, as did Sora for Kairi’s, then he’d be leaving Lea a broken man—unable to heal, unable to forget, with naught but his need for retribution driving him. Danger loomed on the horizon, and _this_ Lea would meet it head-on, without care or concern for himself or the ruins he’d leave in his wake.

Too often, Isa thought about how _lost_ he’d be without Lea; for the first time, Isa understood that the same was true for Lea. And so, Isa could not sacrifice his _life_ for Lea’s. But that did not mean he could not offer—

_Four._

**{What is he worth to you?}**

“My… self,” Isa answered, voice barely more than a whisper. A loud _crack_ sounded throughout the void, and Isa fell gracelessly onto the brittle glass. His heart swelled as he teetered on the precipice of fate. Yet still, Isa spoke clearly. “This is not a sacrifice. I will not give my life for his, but my life is not all that I have.” Isa looked down at Lea, _his Lea_ , once-more relaxed and sleeping. “But,” he added, “everything else? All that I am, I will give it to him. Freely.”

_Three._

**{Is this what you desire?}**

_Two._

“It is.”

_One._

**{So be it.}**

Glass shattered, iron shrieked, and Isa fell, fell, _fell_ into darkness.

_“Isa?”_

**[nowhere]**

Time slowed. Each heartbeat lasted an eternity as Isa gazed out across an endless starry field laid atop a glittering lake. “A land of sea and sky,” Isa murmured, repeating the words Kairi had used to describe this place. _The final world_ , as Naminé said.

“Sure is somethin’, huh?” Isa twisted around and spotted Lea, who was sitting with his legs dangling off the water’s edge, feet swinging back-and-forth over the abyss. Isa knew he must’ve looked dumbstruck. He felt like he’d aged a decade in a handful of hours, gone to hell and back for Lea, who was just… sitting there, relaxed and carefree as Isa’d ever seen him. But, as soon as the thought occurred to Isa, he felt deep pity for the redhead.

Unburdened by all the guilt, pain, and remorse that weighed on his heart, Lea looked lighter, somehow. At peace. And Isa meant to drag him back, to face his ( _their_ ) atonement.

“Hey Isa?” Lea asked, still unaware of what Isa had done. “Where d’you suppose this leads to?”

“I don’t think the living are meant to know.”

“S’that what we are?” Lea’s brow furrowed in deep, yet confused thought. Isa took a single step forward, however in this _un_ -place it was as if distance held no meaning—he was instantly at Lea’s side. Cautiously, Isa lowered himself to sit beside Lea, the water cool and refreshing as it cascaded over his fingers.

“What do you mean?” Isa asked, twining his pinky finger with Lea’s, whose own curled around Isa’s in return.

“Are we… are we _alive_?” Lea’s eyes glittered in the starlight like actual emeralds. “I don’t remember how I got here.”

“I do.” Another thunderous heartbeat echoed, and for a second Isa Saw the world they’d left behind. He Saw the flickering candlelight and salted ash. He Saw a pale hand resting over his heart, and his own over Lea’s. He Saw Lea’s wan skin, shimmering green as the healing magic took hold at last. Isa blinked, and it was _starlight_ , again. “You were gravely injured, and I…” Isa felt his— _their—_ heartbeat thumping steadily in his chest, eons away. “I came for you.”

“I don’t remember,” Lea murmured. He sounded oddly empty, almost as if he were caught in a dream. Isa wondered what else Lea might’ve forgotten; it was unlike him, not to ask about his wards, or their friends.

_“...come back.”_

“We cannot remain in this place.” When Lea didn’t respond, Isa gently cupped his lover’s jaw, forcing Lea to meet his concerned gaze. “Our… our _family_ is waiting for us.”

“Our family, right,” Lea replied dreamily. His eyes slipped sideways, peering into the unknown. “”Ma ‘n mom..”

“No, not them. Not yet,” Isa interrupted, sliding his hand up Lea’s temple and into his hair, recapturing his attention. “Roxas and Xion. Naminé—”

_“...you need to wake up.”_

“But it’s so peaceful,” Lea said. He twisted his hand beneath Isa’s so that their fingers interlocked. “Can’t we stay just a little longer?”

Isa couldn’t deny being… tempted. The waters carried whispers—the low murmuring of his grandmother, his little sister calling his name, _Isa. Isa. I—_

_“...sa.”_

“We will return, someday,” Isa said to Lea as he pulled the taller man to his feet. The voices faded with the receding waters, but Isa knew he’d hear them again. But first, “there is so much we have left ahead of us.”

“Seeing things again?” Lea teased, his voice sounding much more present, like he was—

_“...wake up.”_

—waking up. “Don’t suppose this counts as our seaside getaway, huh? For starters, you’ve got _way_ too many layers on…”

“We stand on the precipice that divides life from death, and you’re making lewd come-ons. Unbelievable,” Isa griped, blushing despite himself. Never had he known, nor would he ever meet, someone so obnoxious. Isa felt a strange tugging sensation in his heart, and beside him Lea frowned and brought his hand up to his own chest.

“You feel that?”

This time, when _their heartbeat_ thundered Isa Saw what he had done, and _understood._ In his mind’s eye he gazed down at Lea’s heart once again, only this time it was inlaid with sterling silver, pearlescent opals and azure moonlight. It was the same, yet also completely changed; two halves of different wholes, bound forever. It no longer hurt Isa inexplicably to look upon himself, his visage a near-perfect mirror of Lea’s as Lunatic rested at his feet, while in his opposite hand he wielded—

_“....wake up!”_

“What _is_ that?” Lea asked, still clutching his chest. “Isa?”

With a small, but pleased smile curling his lips, Isa placed his hand over Lea’s. “I’ve given you a gift, and I hope you guard it well.” At Lea’s confused look, Isa clarified, “My- _self_. My heart.”

“Your… heart?” Lea asked. Isa watched as Lea momentarily drew his focus inward, eyes slipping shut as he reached for his heart. He felt it like a jolt of electricity, or an igniting spark when Lea realized what he’d done. Lea’s eyes sprang open, wide with surprise and fear. “Isa,” he said, “you can’t just _give_ your heart away. You have to keep it, at least a part of it, for yourself.”

“And I have,” Isa replied. He took Lea’s other hand in his, and brought it to his own chest. “Although, perhaps it’s more accurate to say I’ve _borrowed_ yours.” _Your-self_ , Isa thought, then added, “For safekeeping.”

Isa had never seen Lea look so gobsmacked, their shared heartbeat thundering like a wardrum across the vast nothingness. Isa felt _fire_ in his veins, and moonlight on his skin. “Lea, it’s time.”

Lea looked at Isa— _Seeing_ him for the first time. Isa was no fool; he knew there was much more left to say about his reckless and irreversible actions, but he could not deny the absolute joy that filled _their_ heart. In his mind’s eye, he Saw—

_himself, waking up…_

_unblemished freckled skin…_

_glittering emerald eyes and a wide, toothy grin…_

—a new Truth, an unbroken path that they’d travel together.

“You ready?”

Isa looked over _at his heart_ and smiled.

“Well, I can tell you are.”

Lea grinned.

“Yeah.”

**[vi.]**

They say, ‘time heals all wounds.’ Once, an old man with bright emerald eyes told Isa ‘there’s no healing the dead.’ Isa used to believe that to heal one must first move beyond the past, but he was slowly coming to realize that sometimes you need to let the ashes settle before you can ever hope to rebuild. So much sage advice… some good, plenty bad, but Isa listened to it all nevertheless.

After all, he was a _healer_ now, in spirit if not in practice.

Yen Sid privately confirmed what Merlin told them that night in Ansem’s castle; by binding their hearts, Isa had tied his fate to Lea’s, and vice versa. Isa had taken on Lea’s sins and his guilt into himself in order to allow the healing magic to take effect, and there was no going back. Likewise, Lea shared Isa’s self-doubt and uncertainty. They bore the weight of each other’s traumas equally.

As with many hurts, there were stumbles and setbacks. After the dust had settled and joyous tears had been shed, Lea lost his temper in _spectacular_ fashion. Isa had never seen his lover so livid, so far beyond angry that he never even raised his voice, nor uttered a single curse. Instead Lea said his piece, and when he was finished left for Merlin’s haven, the Timeless Forest. Isa had no clue how long Lea spent there, or what was said while he was gone; he returned two days later with an even deeper tan and Kairi in tow.

 _She talked some sense into me,_ was all Lea’d say, and Isa accepted that it was in the past, now, and therefore settled.

Besides, Isa knew that Lea had let go of whatever grudge he’d held when, while treating Isa to the vacation he’d promised him, he slipped a plain silver band on Isa’s ring finger. “Y’know, this is how _normal_ people do this,” Lea joked, a quirky little grin on his face despite the happy tears that welled in his eyes. “A nice vacation, fancy dinner, wine, a ring—”

“How unoriginal,” Isa scoffed, marvelling at the simple piece that Lea’d picked out for him, and already wondering what he’d choose in return. “Ours makes for a much better story, don’t you agree?”

“Can’t argue with you on that,” Lea replied. “Although it seems kinda silly to go through the whole ‘wedding’ thing, all things considered. Whaddaya say, maybe we should just elope?”

Somehow, Isa managed to squint at Lea through his own happy tears (that he’d later deny). “Absolutely not. I’ll never know peace in this life, or the next, if my ancestors find out I raised three children with you out of wedlock.”

Whether the symbolic commitment they’d made to one another, or the more permanent bond Isa forged between them, Isa was finding that their _partnership_ (in every meaning of the term) did not require him to sacrifice his individual autonomy. If anything, Isa felt his confidence and self-worth increasing with each passing day, with Lea’s constant presence a pillar of support—a relief, rather than a burden.

There were other, more tangible repercussions of their deepened bond. Herbs and flowers that had always seemed to wither under Isa’s care were suddenly flourishing, so much so that Lea begrudgingly cleared Isa a swath in his own gardens. Soon, peppermint and lavender were sprouting, fresh and lively, alongside Lea’s established plants.

(There were other, _less pleasant_ side-effects, such as when Isa sneezed and inadvertently lit every candle in the house, as well as the fireplace. Lea hadn’t stopped laughing for _hours_.)

Lea was not unaffected, either. At first, it was nothing more than figments, like dust motes catching a glimmer of light, but soon Lea admitted to having strange dreams that seemed to flicker like firelight—too difficult to explain upon waking. Likewise, when Isa asked Lea if he would prefer a spring or autumn handfasting, both of them were caught off-guard by how surely Lea replied, “What’re you talking about, Isa? We’re gettin’ married on the winter solstice.”

(Even as Lea panicked, hands tangled in his hair as he whispered, “I have _no idea_ how I know that, Isa, I just do,” Isa calmly opened his notebook and began sketching out a few winter-themed arrangements.)

Their ever-growing closeness also lent Isa boundless insight into his heartmate’s wounded psyche. He’d Seen it, firsthand, how deeply Lea’s guilt and feelings of worthlessness were rooted. However, where before Isa felt helpless to protect Lea from his own self-destructive tendencies, now he could feel when those emotions threatened to overwhelm Lea, and unravel all the progress he’d made. And in turn, Isa had given Lea something— _someone_ —to fight for, if not himself.

Healing, Isa was learning, would take time. And like his visions, it could not be forced. But, that didn’t mean Isa could not… _help_ the process along.

The catered lunch in the castle gardens had been Aeleus’s idea; near enough to the labs so that neither Even nor Ienzo were agitated, yet open and airy so as not to trigger Lea’s claustrophobia. (Isa was simply thankful to be enjoying a meal without sea-salt ice cream for once.) Having the caterers hovering nearby, ever-ready to refill an empty glass or take a dirtied plate helped maintain a civil atmosphere as Lea awkwardly stumbled his way through an apology to both men for how their Nobody’s (non)existences ended. Isa, too, offered his own contrition, as Axel _had_ been acting on Saïx’s orders.

Upon learning that _minor_ detail, Even had the gall to smirk. “Secret orders seem to have become a habit of yours as of late, hmm?” His remark, darkly humorous and bordering on inappropriate, nonetheless seemed to _break the ice_ , as it were. By the time dessert was served (a fruit tart, and Isa was near-tears in relief), Lea was gesticulating wildly and Ienzo was launching into one long-winded explanation after another as both Isa and Even watched with mild exasperation, adding their own dry commentary here and there.

“That felt… good,” Lea admitted later that evening, with Isa curled in his arms. A soft white light emanated from Lea, warm and comforting in an utterly inexplicable way. “I didn’t think it would, y’know? I guess I kinda—” Lea swallowed heavily, his words dying in his throat.

“Tell me,” Isa murmured, fingers idly tracing nonsensical patterns across Lea’s freckled forearms. Lea sighed, soft and airy, and Isa felt lips press against his temple—a tender kiss.

“Never figured they’d forgive me,” he whispered, voice thick. Isa turned in Lea’s arms, just in time to see the first crystalline tears fall down his cheeks. And yet, despite his tears, Lea still glowed; these were tears of _release_ , rather than _remorse_.

Isa gently cupped Lea’s cheek in his hand, thumb brushing the wetness aside. To his surprise—or perhaps not—his own fingers had taken on a subtle glow of their own... just like moonlight, a reflection of the sun.

“There is no peace without forgiveness,” Isa replied, then on a whim, added, “Got it memorized?”

Lea scoffed, poking Isa as he feigned annoyance. “H-hey! Just ‘cause I gave you my heart doesn’t mean you get to steal my lines!”

Isa grinned, and pulled Lea in close. “What’s yours is mine, love,” he whispered, before taking those lips for himself in a slow, thorough, and loving kiss.

There was no need to rush, after all. They had all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> End Note: The biggest inspiration I had for this story was Saïx (Isa’s) character file ([translated from Japanese by @CodedByDays](https://twitter.com/CodedbyDays/status/1230707369908170752)). Isa spends a lot of time thinking about how hearts connect to one another, and also meaningless he felt after Axel (Lea) “forgot about” him in the Organization. I wanted to explore that a little bit, and in particular see if I couldn’t uncover a more agentive angle to Isa and Lea’s heavily-implied codependency. 
> 
> To a lesser extent, I also wanted to address Lea’s still-incomplete atonement, and how all of his actions, both good and (especially) bad, might continue to affect him as time moves on. (You’ll notice I left a few metaphorical doors open in the final act re: Lea’s feelings on all of this…) Finally, I wanted to shamelessly expand on my “mystical Radiant Garden AU” plotbunnies, which is what took this story from ~6,000 words to over 11k.
> 
> I owe a huge thanks to everyone on the KH Writer’s Server I’m in, especially Ari ([@xigithy](https://twitter.com/xigithy)), Robin ([@imnotanironwall](https://twitter.com/imnotanironwall)), Haydar ([@salamisato_](https://twitter.com/salamisato_)), and all the folks who sprinted with me these past few weeks.
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please leave a kudos or a comment - it truly warms my heart to know that people are enjoying my stories. You can also follow me on twitter, [@radovanryn](https://twitter.com/radovanryn), where I spam Lea/Axel appreciation, share fic previews, and post stories unavailable on AO3.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and take care of yourselves. <3 Illia


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